Feel Your Way
by Osidiano
Summary: Written for the ygo!gx kinkmeme. Manjoume is trying to rebuild his friendship with Juudai after the events of the Haou arc and the hero's fusion with Yubel. They spend most of their time in the hot springs now. Mild Viewshipping.


Disclaimer/Notes: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!: GX, or any of the characters here, unless otherwise mentioned. I do not own Kazuki Takahashi, and no money is being made off of this piece of fiction. This story was written solely for entertainment purposes, and no copyright infringement was intended. Please, do not sue. All original ideas are original (duh) and belong to me, unless otherwise mentioned. This story takes place after the end of Yubel arc, and contains fluffiness and very mild Viewshipping. Or it could just be some sweet bromance. Take it however you like, and enjoy.

**Feel Your Way**

Dealing with Juudai after the events in the Dark World was not easy. Most of their time together in the early days after the academy's hero had been coaxed out of his room was spent in the hot springs. For a week, there was nothing between them but silence: morose, uncharacteristic brooding on the former tyrant's end, and wordless glances from the reformed crusader. There was no laughter or games of keep-away. There were no chases, no mountain kings, and no play-fights. They did not invite any of the others to go with them, and they went at erratic hours so that they could be alone with the calming sounds of water to clear their minds and the haze of steam to obscure their vision.

They had fallen into a routine, and it was only when Juudai broke it that Manjoume realized that while he missed the other's childish antics, he almost enjoyed the kind of quiet friendship they seemed to be trying to rebuild from the ashes of their old connection.

It had started like every other visit to the springs: they had entered after hours, with Manjoume coming in a few minutes later than the Osiris boy. He never knew if Juudai had broken the lock or simply picked it, but it was always left open for him, and he took it as an unspoken invitation. The hero was already in the water when he arrived, seated with his arms resting on the rock rim, his head tilted back and a cool wet cloth placed over his eyes. Manjoume slid into the water next to him, careful not to be so close that they could touch, but nearby all the same. It was just in case Juudai decided that he wanted to talk tonight, or embarrass him with some stupid game, or splash each other with water until Manjoume was red in the face from screaming at him to knock it off.

Those were the kinds of things that Juudai used to like to do.

But an hour passed without any kind acknowledgment or meaningful activity. Manjoume could feel his own expectations slowly diminish during that time, as though the warm water was washing away his hope that tonight would be different from the last. A part of him had known that there would be no words between them, regardless of their sentiment. Juudai was different now. The boy that he had once reluctantly referred to as his friend – even if only to himself – was gone.

Heaving a weighty sigh, Manjoume roused himself from his seated position, moving to his feet and turning around to place his hands on the rock rim as he prepared to pull himself out of the steamy water. Their ritual only called for an hour in springs; any longer, and the heat was liable to give him a headache. To his right and slightly behind him, he could hear Juudai shifting, the water sloshing lazily from the movement. This was also routine: they often headed back to the changing room around the same time.

But then a pair of strong arms wrapped around him from behind, the hands clasping opposing forearms and pressing against his diaphragm. He was pulled back a wet chest, a damp cheek coming to rest on his shoulder, a nose and mouth brushing against his neck. Juudai's breath was warm where it fanned across his skin. Manjoume froze, tensing. It was not as though this was the first hug he had ever received from the other boy; Juudai had a history of forcing friendly affections onto him, just as Manjoume had a history of not reciprocating. The paler boy had been hugged after his release from Amnael's book, and when they all returned to the Osiris dorms after the fateful encounter with the Sangenma freshman year. Juudai had held him tightly after their duel second year when Manjoume had forsaken the White Order, and when he woke up in the infirmary after being lit on fire as a zombie. But Manjoume did not like their hugs; they were awkward and one-sided, like so much of their friendship. They hugged because it made Juudai feel better for some reason, and it really never had anything to do with what Manjoume wanted.

". . .I'm sorry," the hero said at last, squeezing him just a little tighter. The younger boy tilted his head back and to the side to view his captor, raising a brow at the strange apology. Juudai rarely apologized for anything, probably because he was a hero and heroes so rarely made mistakes worth lamenting aloud. Those brown eyes were closed, brows furrowed in some deeply uncharacteristic contemplation. He hated seeing the other so thoughtful; he missed the days of stupid grins and 'Gotcha' fingers. Manjoume patted one of the arms across his chest in what he had meant to be a gesture of camaraderie. It came out jerky and slightly forced, an outcast's failed attempt to show some form of understanding or forgiveness.

"You don't have to-"

"I do." It was the harsh way of speaking, the tyrant's tone, that Juudai had not yet lost that was used to cut through Manjoume's feeble attempt to diffuse the situation. He was not to be appealed to, not to be argued with. Manjoume felt himself flinch, felt it mimicked by the body behind him as they both realized what he sounded like and were reminded of what he was.

". . . I'm not mad, and I don't blame you for what you did," Manjoume said quietly, not wanting to awaken that violent shadow that Juudai had so artfully embodied in the past. It seemed like the right thing to say, although he could not help but feel that it was somewhat lacking in the same way that his gesture had fallen short.

"I'm not talking about the way I killed you." The pause that followed was uncertain and faltering. Juudai started to say something, but only got the first word out before he seemed to change his mind. "I'm. . .sorry. What you said was right."

"Even if our friendship meant nothing to you, it means something to me," it was a familiar statement for the crusader, but even now the words still rested heavy with a sense of finality on his tongue. He looked back over his shoulder at the Osiris boy, their eyes meeting. Manjoume tried to offer him a smile, and hoped that it did not look as tight as it felt spreading across his thin lips. "And that. . . that's enough for me."

"I don't. . . mean to be this way, you know."

"I know."

". . .Hey, Manjoume?" The dark haired boy looked back to his captor silently. There was an uncomfortable pause as they both watched each other expectantly.

"Well?" the crusader finally prompted him after what felt like an eternity. Juudai frowned, disappointment coloring his features.

"I said your name." The statement was made in that obvious way, like reminding an idiot that he had to draw at the beginning of his turn.

"And?"

"And you're supposed to correct me. You _always_ correct me. You know, 'san da?'" Juudai squeezed him tightly. Manjoume just grinned, all those feelings of tension and apprehensive flushing out of his system. He felt relieved to think that it might be possible to return to that carefree childishness of their past friendship while holding onto the subdued quality of their current understanding. Sure, they were moving blindly, and it was awkward, but perhaps things could get better. Maybe this change would not be quite as devastating as he had thought; maybe this was something that, with a little work, they could both get used to.

"_Whatever_."


End file.
